


The Queen's Valour

by Quecksilver_Eyes



Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: F/F, M/M, Multi, and misses her spouses, lucy is nostalgic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 22:39:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15873144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quecksilver_Eyes/pseuds/Quecksilver_Eyes
Summary: The painting spits water into Eustace’ room, in between Eustace’ bickering and Edmund’s exhaustion, and the spray of sea water against Lucy’s skin is as cold as the English morning air. “Edmund”, she calls, but Edmund slams his hand against the door and looms over Eustace, who doesn’t flinch. “Edmund, the painting!” The water pools at her feet, warmer than the air around them, the window open at Lucy’s back. It drenches her tights, her heavy wool skirt and her brother, who has turned around now, his eyes alight. Lucy laughs. Eustace stumbles back, his mouth slack.





	The Queen's Valour

_I only knew my mother as a small hatchling, and can remember neither her nor my royal Aunt and Uncles._ _Only the Lion knows if Narnia will see them again._ This quote is wildly attributed to the Gentle Queen’s eldest daughter, the Crown Princess of Narnia, whose name and titles have been lost to the flow of time, and most likely concerns the sudden disappearance of the High King and his siblings.  
\- Anonymous: Two Sons of Adam, two Daughters of Eve. The Golden Age and its Rulers, A Look Behind Castle Walls. Telmar: no publishing house specified, ca 1300.

*

The painting spits water into Eustace’ room, in between Eustace’ bickering and Edmund’s exhaustion, and the spray of sea water against Lucy’s skin is as cold as the English morning air. “Edmund”, she calls, but Edmund slams his hand against the door and looms over Eustace, who doesn’t flinch. “Edmund, the painting!” The water pools at her feet, warmer than the air around them, the window open at Lucy’s back. It drenches her tights, her heavy wool skirt and her brother, who has turned around now, his eyes alight. Lucy laughs. Eustace stumbles back, his mouth slack.

The wood under Lucy’s feet groans and Edmund’s breath catches in his throat. “We’re going home”, Lucy says and finds herself in a tight, breathless hug as the water rises beyond their throats.

“You’re both mad”, Eustace says and his voice breaks. “You’re both bloody mad.” Edmund twirls Lucy around, his calloused hands rough against her skin and with a kiss to her cheek, he lets her go and they start swimming towards the warm Narnian sun.

*

When Lucy was still Queen, her skin freckled and scarred, Amarantha’s hand on her back, she set foot into the Dwarven forgery closest to Cair Paravel and her breath painted fog into the sky. The prosthetic on her right shoulder rested heavy and cold against her flesh and as soon as the sunlight didn’t reach her anymore, the dwarves lowered their tools, the echo of it still etched into the stone around them.

“Your Majesty”, one of the dwarves said and bowed his head, his beard braided and combed. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?” His colleagues behind him shuffled their feet and didn’t look her in the eye and Amarantha dissolved into blossoming wind around her.

She smiled. “I come to thank you and your people for the prosthetic”, she said and watched as her breath danced heavenwards. “It is excellent craftsmanship and I appreciate your gift dearly.”

(“We oughtn’t let her go alone”, Edmund had said, his mouth a scowl, his back against the cold window and Susan had clicked her tongue.

“Have you no faith in Lucy’s skill with her dagger?” She’d smoothed the wrinkles in Lucy’s dress and smiled, her lips painted the colour of forget-me-nots. “They sent a gift. It is only polite to thank them for it.”

Lucy had said nothing and hugged Edmund close, Peter’s shivering hands on her hair.)

The dwarf straightened, then, and worried his hammer in his hands. “You have only one of us to thank, my Queen”, he said and looked at his fellow dwarves. “Xerxes is our most proficient forger and they took it on themselves to fashion a replacement for the limb you lost.” The dwarf next to him, with hair and beard so red Lucy might have mistaken it for fire, bowed their head.

“It is an honour”, they said and Lucy felt a breath leave her at the sound of their voice, deep and hoarse, like the wind in her hair. Amarantha’s blossoms around her came to rest on her shoulders, her hair, her hands as she smiled at Xerxes and their many braided beard.

“Thank you”, she said and the prosthetic on her arm felt warmer, suddenly, in the light of the dwarf’s smile.

*

When they breathe Narnian air again, dryad wood beneath their feet and Caspian’s arm slung around Edmund’s shoulders, his laugh deeper now as it settles into Lucy’s bones, Eustace continues his screaming. “I demand to know where I am”, he spits and doesn’t bother wringing out his dripping clothes. “I will write the British consulate and-”

He faints as soon as he lays eyes on one of the Old Narnians. “Are you sure he’s related by blood?”, Caspian asks and Edmund sighs.

“Yes”, says Lucy and thinks of Aunt Alberta and her prodding fingers. “He is.” The wood under her feet breathes and reaches for her and the smell of sea water rests heavy on her skin. Edmund holds onto the rail, his knuckles white.

“Where are you going?”, Lucy asks and Caspian smiles.

“East”, he says and Edmund heaves a breath. Lucy rests her hand on his back and he leans into the touch.

“Why?”, she asks.

“Come with me”, Caspian says, his eyes on Edmund. “I’ll show you.”

The further East they sail on Caspian’s quest, the more Lucy can feel her own strength settling back into her small body, the sea under her, dryad wood against her skin. Edmund’s back is no longer hunched over, a sword at his hips, his bandages discarded in the cabin he shares with Caspian and Eustace. The healing cordial on Lucy’s belt settles heavy against her hipbone, her dagger pressed against her leg.

A week into their journey, when the sun lies heavy and sluggish on the horizon and there are no bells or Aunt Alberta’s fingers to wake them, she pulls Edmund down and kisses his cheek. He grins and picks her up, one hand against the bend of her knees, another against her back. Caspian’s clothes are loose and cool on her skin and when she looks at her brother, she can almost see the scar the white witch gave him stretching as he smiles.

*

“Your Majesty?” Xerxes’ voice was still deep and soft and Amarantha laughed her quiet laugh as Lucy closed her eyes, Amarantha’s wooden skin against hers, the softness of the forest soil against her bare feet. “I wouldn’t have thought a simple spring dance would attract your attention.”

She turned around in Amarantha’s arms, new freckles blooming on her neck, and smiled at Xerxes. “What would life be with only royal dances to attend?” Amarantha smiled against her neck, the movement of it etched into her skin. Xerxes hummed and bowed their head.

“Excuse me”, they said and turned around.

“Oh no, please wait.” Lucy took a step towards Xerxes and felt her voice breaking before it did. “Why don’t you sit with us? I think I’ve enough of dancing for a while.”

Xerxes looked at her, their eyes the colour of water at its deepest point and it was only then that Lucy realised they’d braided their beard differently. “If that is what you wish, my Queen.”

Lucy shook her head. “It’s an invitation”, she said and thought of Edmund and his shivering limbs. “Not an order.” Amarantha giggled into her ear and Lucy smiled.

Xerxes cocked their head. “It’d be an honour”, they said. Their hair was bright against the wooden skin of the dryads around them, the thundering hooves of the centaurs and suddenly Lucy wished she’d worn the prosthetic.

“They really are pretty”, Amarantha whispered and Lucy swatted her arm.

“Oh hush.”

Amarantha laughed.

*

“Do you have no shame?” Eustace voice is pitched high and shrill in Lucy’s ears as he grabs her arm. Caspian reaches for his sword. “Prancing about in this getup?” Eustace pulls at her trousers and Lucy thinks of the dagger at her hips.

“What did you think I’d wear? A dripping skirt?”, she asks instead and shakes her head at Caspian, who scoffs and returns his sword to its scabbard. His hand still hovers over it.

“It isn’t decent.” Eustace’ grip grows tighter and Lucy can feel the bruise blooming on her skin.

“I don’t care about decency”, she says. “Let go of me.”

He doesn’t. Instead, he pulls her closer. “I should tell mother that you are wearing trousers again.”

Lucy laughs. “Oh please do. And do tell her also what happened here, I’m sure she’ll believe you.”

Eustace scowls. His face is still smooth and fearful, the way Edmund’s was when they first stepped into Narnia, the same eyes, the same lines around his mouth, his chest heaving.

Lucy peels his hand off her arm. “There is no British consulate here, you know. You’ll have to stay here until we are called back again.” The wood underneath her creaks and she can almost feel Amarantha’s blossoms on her skin.

Eustace swallows, his eyes wide. “You’re lying”, he says and takes a step back. “You’re all lying, the lot of you.”

Lucy shrugs and smiles. “Maybe. Maybe this is all a prank.” She turns on her heels until she faces Eustace again. “But it could just as well be the truth. There could just as well be a world in which people who read sensible books are those lost and those of us who read fairy tales know our way about it.”

Eustace sputters as Lucy hugs him and then walks towards Edmund, the sun in her back.

“Did you just hug him?” Edmund raises his eyebrows at her and Lucy grins and kisses his cheek. His skin is smooth and scarless, but it’s darker here than it ever was in England and she can feel her brother settle into his own bones again.

*

(Marriage Certificate of Queen Lucy the Valiant and her spouses, dated March 25th 1013  
_N° 367 Queen Lucy the Valiant, Duchess of Glasswater Creed, Countess of Spare Oom, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion, the Glistening Eastern Sea of Narnia, Dryad Amarantha of the Western Woods and Dwarf Xerxes of the Northern March were married in this Meadow by the Western Woods this 25th Day of March in the Year One Thousand and Thirteen years by me, High King Peter the Magnificent, Emperor of the Lone Islands, Lord of Cair Paravel, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion, the Clear Northern Sky of Narnia._  
_This Marriage was solemnized between Us Queen Lucy the Valiant etc, Amarantha, Xerxes_  
 _In the Presence of Queen Susan the Gentle of the Horn, Countess of the Dancing Lawn, Lady of Cair Paravel, the Radiant Southern Sun of Narnia_  
 _King Edmund the Just, Duke of Lantern Waste, Count of the Western March, Knight of the Noble Order of the Table, the Great Western Woods of Narnia_ )  
\- Anonymous: Two Sons of Adam, two Daughters of Eve. The Golden Age and its Rulers, A Look Behind Castle Walls. Telmar: no publishing house specified, ca 1300.


End file.
